She scooted out of the way and rolled to her feet. Though she didn’t have any weapons, she dug into her pocket for the electronic multitool she always carried. She had a vague notion of hitting someone, but all four men were already down. Ankari had finished the one, and Sergei had knocked the fight out of the others. One tried to crawl for the sidewalk. Jamie flexed her hand around the tool, though at this point, she doubted she would need it.
Sergei hauled one of the men to his feet, even as the thunder of footsteps came from the sidewalk. Four men in the greens and grays of the city police were racing toward the platform, their body armor gleaming in the afternoon sun, laser pistols and batons bouncing at their waists.
“What do you people want?” Sergei asked, his eyes boring into his prisoner’s face, though he flicked a glance toward the oncoming police too.
The downsider, his nose and lip bleeding, shook his head as if he didn’t understand. Sergei shifted his grip on the man’s shoulder, digging his fingers into the man’s flesh, eliciting a gasp of pain. Jamie winced and looked away. Even if these people had attacked them, she hated to see them hurt further.
“What do you want?” Sergei repeated. “Answer me.”
“Help for our people,” the man said through gritted teeth.
By then, the police were flowing off the sidewalk, surrounding the downed men and snapping flex-cuffs onto their wrists. Sergei was slow to release his prisoner, even after a policeman fastened the cuffs and dropped a hand onto the downsider’s shoulder. Sergei looked at Ankari before releasing the man.
“We’ll handle this,” one of them told Ankari, picking her out as the leader. “We apologize for your inconvenience.”
Ankari hesitated, then nodded once. Sergei let the man go.
Ankari watched the downsiders being hauled off, a puzzled expression on her face, as if she would have liked the answers to a few questions too. She frowned down at the briefcase that she hadn’t relinquished, even though two of those men had desperately tried to steal it. “I don’t get it. It’s empty.”
“Maybe they thought it was still full of specimens,” Jamie said. “That it could help them somehow.”
“How would they even know about that meeting and our business?” Ankari gazed back down the sidewalk, though the hospital had long since disappeared from view, dwarfed by the skyscrapers and floating houses all around.
“Unknown.” Sergei was giving Ankari a curious look. “Mandrake didn’t say that you were a mashatui practitioner.”
Ankari waved a hand in dismissal. “My father taught us all some when we were kids.”
Jamie felt a twinge of envy at Sergei’s appreciative nod and looked down at the multitool she was still clutching. When it came to skirmishes, she didn’t have a clue how to help. What she had told Sergei about her father was true, but he had never shown his daughters how to fight, having some notion that ladies shouldn’t have to defend themselves, that some man should do it for them, not that a lot of battles had broken out in their quiet community.
Jamie stuffed the tool back in her pocket, lest she look foolish for holding it as if it were a weapon.
“It’s good that you’re able to defend yourself, Ankari,” Sergei said, then lifted a hand toward Jamie. “Are you all right? Were you injured?”
Jamie resisted the urge to dust off her backside—everything in the city was clean, so it wasn’t as if she had gum or dirt sticking to her coveralls now. “I’m fine. They just surprised me.”
Sergei nodded. At least there wasn’t anything dismissive or disappointed in his eyes, not that Jamie could read.
“We should return to the ship,” he said.
“No objections here,” Ankari said and led the way. If the attack had rattled her at all, it didn’t show.
Jamie sighed, wishing for some of that composure. She wasn’t a shaking mess, but the incident had disturbed her. She wanted to know why those people had attacked her, why anyone would want to attack her. No, she hadn’t been the focus. It had been Ankari. An odd number of people seemed interested in her. Jamie didn’t think this attack had anything to do with her relationship to Captain Mandrake, either.
“I’m going to call Viktor,” Ankari said when they turned onto the wide promenade where the ships were docked. “See if he’s done with his visit to the planet yet.”
“Do you think he would have mentioned our business to someone?” Jamie asked.
Ankari looked sharply at her. “I hadn’t been thinking that at all, actually, but maybe someone who went with him did.”
“Striker?”
Ankari snorted. “Striker does have a big mouth, but I don’t think he understands the business—or cares enough to try to understand it—so I doubt he was the one getting the natives excited about the idea of microbiota transplants.”
Someone had set up carnival games at the far end of the promenade, and two mechanical elephants tramped around, giving kids rides. Vendors hawked smaller versions of the elephants, along with flying parrots, some real and some mechanical. Robots selling ice cream and cotton candy rolled through the area. It all seemed ludicrous compared to the poverty that must exist on the continents below.
The ramp to the shuttle was down, so the earlier client must have left. Ankari headed straight up to access the comm. Sergei stopped at the bottom, apparently intending to stand guard from outside. Jamie paused, wondering if she should say something to him, but she didn’t know what. She was still feeling useless over her role—her lack of a role—in the fight and wished she had a way to prove that she could do more than fly the shuttle and build toy robots.
One of the mechanical parrots chirped as it flew past. Seeing it reminded Jamie of the camera Sergei had shot down earlier. Maybe she could prove herself useful after all.
Sergei was standing, his hands clasped behind his back, watching her. There was a hint of wariness in his eyes. He must be wondering if she would share any of what he had spoken about. Not likely. That wasn’t the sort of thing one gossiped to one’s friends about.
“Do you still have the remains of that camera?” Jamie asked. “I can try to trace its origins for you.”
“Yes.” He trotted into the shuttle and retrieved it.
She met him halfway up the ramp and said, “I’ll get to work.”
“Thank you,” he said.
She could feel his eyes on her as she walked inside and wondered if he was humoring her. Did he truly need the camera researched, or was that something he could handle on his own? He doubtlessly had experience dealing with all manner of security systems. But had Mandrake told him about Felgard? Would he know to specifically look for people who had a tie to the dead finance lord? She resolved to spend the rest of the day researching, not just the camera, but Felgard’s cloud city buddies, as well. She would show Sergei that she was useful, even if she didn’t know the difference between a side kick and a roundhouse kick.
5
Sergei intended to remain at the bottom of the ramp, watching the outdoors again, giving the businesswomen their privacy to do their business things, but when the low rumble of Mandrake’s voice drifted to him, his curiosity got the better of him. Whatever was happening on the planet might affect Ankari and the others, so it would be wise to stay abreast of the news.
He padded up the ramp. Ankari was sitting in the pilot’s seat, a hologram of Mandrake live in front of her. Jamie sat in the other seat at the console, her own displays showing network searches.
Sergei leaned against the wall inside, his back to the curtained area, his face toward the promenade. From here, he could listen to the conversation but still see everything that went on outside. He was aware of Lauren in the clinic behind him, humming softly and clattering about, but he could still hear Mandrake when he spoke.
“…arrived this morning local time,” he was saying. “It took some fancy flying to get by the cloud city patrols, but when we made it down, the people here were oddly interested in talking to me. They directed us right to th
e secret underground bunker of an organization dedicated to the betterment of the downsiders’ lives. This is where the fighter originated. They have a couple other space and aircraft down here that they’re not supposed to have, but I’m not saying anything.”
“Did you find out what they want from Mandrake Company yet?” Ankari asked.
“Freighter service.”
“Er, what?”
“They’ve managed to stockpile some gold, and they put in a big order for food and medicine for their people. It’s sitting in a warehouse on Orion Prime. They want Mandrake Company to pick it up.”
“This planet’s primary export is food, and they want you to import food?” Ankari asked.
“This food would be for the people down here to eat, not for the cloud people and not for GalCon. They want it done on the sly, said it would be taken from them if the planetary government figured it out.”
“So… Mandrake Company.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to do it?” Ankari asked. “That’s a week, round trip.”
“They’re paying enough to make it worth it.” Mandrake lowered his voice—so nearby subordinates wouldn’t hear? “We’d do it, regardless.”
“Yeah.” Ankari sounded as if she was of a like mind. “We have client meetings set up on two more cities, so we need a week here, anyway.
Mandrake didn’t answer right away. He probably wasn’t thrilled about leaving Ankari in potential trouble.
“We could pick you up before we leave to get the shipment,” Mandrake said, and Sergei nodded to himself. “Then bring you back next week. You can reschedule your appointments.”
“There’s no need for that. It’s not like it’ll take you long to drop off a box of food. Better if we’re already done when you get back, and then you can scoot off to your next mission.”
“It’s more than a box,” Mandrake said dryly.
“A crate?”
A long silence followed. Was Mandrake glaring at her? He wasn’t known for his sense of humor, but being teased wasn’t the sort of thing that usually piqued him. Sergei doubted Mandrake was truly irritated at Ankari—more likely at the idea of leaving the area when she might be in danger.
“There been any trouble up in the clouds?” Mandrake finally asked.
“Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“I’m noting that’s not a no.”
“Noting?” Ankari asked brightly. “On a piece of paper? That’s quite secretarial of you.”
Sergei was tempted to lean around the curtain to check the expression on Mandrake’s face. But he reminded himself that he was watching the crowd for threats. Of course, if he were to simply raise the ramp and secure everyone in the shuttle, that wouldn’t be necessary. After the call, he would ask if the women were expecting any more clients today.
“How’s Zharkov working out?” Mandrake asked. He didn’t sound irritated. Long-suffering perhaps.
“He’s been fine. Helped us with some of that trouble we handled earlier.”
“Any injuries? Fatalities?”
“My briefcase took a dent, but otherwise, no,” Ankari said. “Our business didn’t come up when you were chatting with people on the planet, did it? Some downsiders seemed to think we might be able to help them. Or that my briefcase, once removed from my person, might be able to help them. I guess nobody told them it was empty at the time or that it would take a trained clinician to do the transfers. Unfortunately, the police hauled the downsiders away before we could question them.”
“Odd that someone would try to steal openly from you,” Mandrake said. “Your specimens aren’t that valuable.”
“You sure about that? Your strain was in there.”
“Then I’m positive they aren’t that valuable.”
“Well,” Ankari said, “these are the same people who sent a pilot off to die for a chance at a box of food.”
“It’s more than—”
“I know, I know. It’s at least a crate. Listen, Viktor, we’ll be careful here, and we’ll survive the week on our own. We have Sergeant Hazel and Zharkov to keep an eye out for us. Please, go off and do your mission and don’t worry about us.”
“I can send another shuttle with more armed men,” Mandrake said. “We won’t need the whole crew for a food pickup.”
“Jamie says she’ll have her robot run over your foot if you send Striker down here.”
“What?” Jamie protested from the other seat. “I didn’t say anything.” She lowered her voice to add, “But I agree with the sentiment.”
“We’ll be fine, Viktor,” Ankari repeated. “You’ve already got enough of your people babysitting us.”
“Just watching out for my twenty percent,” he grumbled.
“Naturally. Be careful. Love you.”
Mandrake grunted.
That must have been the end of the transmission, because Jamie asked, “Does he actually say it back when you’re alone?”
“You have to read between the grunts.”
“Romantic.”
“The man added a sofa to his cabin for me. That’s a testament to his adoration. Ugh, three calls came in while we were out.” Ankari raised her voice and said, “Doesn’t look like our microbiologist knows how to answer the comm.”
“Sales and marketing is your department,” Lauren replied.
“Maybe we can afford an assistant. Unless you’d like to take on some sales duties, Jamie.”
“Uh. Oh, look, is that the coolant alert? I better run a full engine diagnostic before we head to the next city.”
“I’ll take that as a no. Jamie, what happened when you and Zharkov disappeared in the hall? Is there something else I should be worried about?”
Sergei had been listening intently, but then spotted Sergeant Hazel in the crowd, making her way toward the shuttle. She wasn’t hurrying and looked like she was doing a patrol of the area, but she might say something about him standing inside and eavesdropping.
“Some bounty hunter was skulking around the halls, interested in you and the captain, I guess,” Jamie said. “Sergei drove him off.”
“Sergei?” Ankari sounded amused.
“That’s his name.”
“I didn’t know you two were on a first-name basis.”
Sergei would have smiled, but Hazel had turned toward the ramp, so he simply continued to lean against the hull, his arms over his chest, his face impassive as he alertly scanned the passersby. That was the look he was going for, anyway.
“That’s how he introduced himself to me,” Jamie said. “I think. Actually he just bowed. Maybe I presumed.” She hesitated. “Do you think he minds?”
Hell, no. Why would she even worry about it after he had shared his life story with her? He wanted her to use his first name. Whatever name she liked. He was just delighted that Jamie wasn’t sharing any of his babbling with her boss. And that she hadn’t said she had found anything suspicious about the way he “drove off” the bounty hunter.
Hazel frowned at Sergei as she walked up the ramp. She looked like she had a lecture on her lips. Maybe Sergei could forestall it—and draw attention away from the fact that he was listening in on conversations.
“The shuttle was unguarded when I returned, Sergeant,” Sergei said, making his tone cool.
Hazel’s eyebrows rose. She halted and propped her fists on her hips. “Dr. Keys asked me to walk her client home, since a sedative had been used. Neither she nor the shuttle is believed to be in danger, the last I heard.”
“We were attacked on the way back from the hospital. The business’s assets may indeed be in danger.”
“I’ll wait to hear from Ankari about that,” Hazel said stiffly.
Ankari had doubtlessly heard them, because she appeared then, looking curiously at Sergei. Wondering if he had been there the whole time? At least she didn’t look annoyed.
“It’s all right, Sergeant,” Ankari said. “Come on up, and I’ll tell you about it. Zharkov, I think Jamie has somet
hing for you.”
“Oh?”
Jamie brushed past Ankari with a tablet in her palm, a hologram floating above it. “A couple of things. Uh.” She looked around, but there weren’t chairs in the rear of the modified shuttle, just equipment. She settled for sitting on the floor, cross-legged in front of the ramp.
Sergei sat beside her, also crossing his legs. They had scarcely been back for twenty minutes. She couldn’t have found something already, could she have?
Jamie pointed at a fancy spreadsheet hovering over a map of the city with four green dots glowing. “My tracer program—actually, I got it from Ankari’s hacker friend. It has four possibilities listed for the origins of the camera. Unfortunately, it couldn’t narrow things down further, since the mainframe stopped sending data to the camera as soon as it was damaged. It was essentially cut out of the network. The good news is that there are only four systems in the city that employ the make and model number of the camera.” She grinned at him. “You’re lucky you didn’t melt off the side that held those.”
“Er, yes.” The grin flustered him—not to mention that there was scarcely an inch of space between his knee and hers—and that was all he could get out. Something clever and witty would have been more ideal, but she had already turned back to the display.
“Those are the locations of the mainframes, in case you want to skulk around tonight and check them out.”
“Skulk?”
“Isn’t that what assassins do?”
“I’m not a grammarian, but skulk implies cowardice, doesn’t it? I infiltrate. Bravely.” There, that sounded better than “er.” Sergei tried a smile to go along with his attempt at wit.
She rewarded him with another grin, one that lingered this time, as she met his gaze. Maybe she was noticing how handsome he was, what captivating eyes he had, what alluring lips he had… or maybe he was the one thinking those things about her. He needed to stop doing that. He was going to drive himself insane fantasizing about someone he couldn’t have, someone who had shown zero interest in him and was, quite possibly, horrified by the fact that he had spewed out all those gory details to her.
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